


Honey and Syrup

by ApprenticeWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AGH, Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe, Alternate Voldemort, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Blowjobs, Bondage, Bonding, Bottom Harry Potter, Child Abuse, Comfort, Dom/sub, Fluff, Fluffy Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Gorgeous Harry, Hand Fetish, Handsome Severus, Happy Ending, Hardcore, Hogsmeade, Invisibility Cloak (Harry Potter), Jealousy, Lemon, Lesbian, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Possessive Behavior, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sexual Assault, Smut, So much smut, Soft Harry, Soulmates, Starvation, Top Severus Snape, Trust Issues, Voice Kink, Young Severus Snape, leg fetish, nice malfoy, voice sex, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApprenticeWitch/pseuds/ApprenticeWitch
Summary: When Severus Snape enters Hogwarts alongside Harry Potter & co as just another eleven-year-old, and then proceeds to grow up as part of the group, emotions are sent spinning once they've aged enough to care about romance.





	1. Would you like a Chocolate Frog?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters, places, or things in this fic belong to me :( they all belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros :(

A small, skinny figure looked out at the bustling crowd surrounding the imposing locomotive stationed at Nine and Three Quarters, and shivered. He’d just done the seemingly impossible by running headfirst into a wall, only to pass through it and make an appearance in an entirely different place. He silently reminded himself to thank Mrs. Weasley profusely for calming him down as her sons disappeared into thin air through what he thought was solid brick.

Eleven-year-old Harry Potter adjusted his cracked glasses and squinted into the fray, searching hopefully for a flash or two of striking auburn hair. The twins, whom not even their mother could tell apart, had to be around here somewhere. As he sidled to his left by pushing his luggage a little farther onto the platform, he heard a few cracks, like loud pops, behind him, and turned to grin at the youngest boy Weasley. 

He’d never had a friend before, due to being shut away in a cupboard most of his life, but the way Ron’s cheeky smile scrunched his freckles into the creases of his eyes was comforting and made him feel a little mischievous. Perhaps he might make a friend or two after all.

Ron was quickly followed by his mother and her only daughter, Ginny, who was still whining about not being able to leave for Hogwarts with her siblings and clutching to her mother’s skirts. When she caught Harry watching her amusedly, she silenced and hid behind her flaming locks, but didn’t seem too offended. He was glad, he’d not meant to stare and wouldn’t like to ruin a potential bond by annoying Ron’s little sister. Harry smiled softly in apology and turned to Ron, who was busy attempting to dig his pygmy puff out of his pocket to offer it some treats. 

The tiny, fluffy creature did not agree with this, most likely disturbed by the loud noises and constant jostling. Ron had shown Harry the miniature creature in his pocket before Harry had run through the station wall, and it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He turned to Hedwig, who seemed slightly ruffled from their magical escapades but otherwise alright, and whispered into her downy fluff that she was still his favorite creature. She looked at him sagely and turned to nibble his finger complacently. He supposed it was her way of saying she accepted his praise.

Suddenly, a loud, wailing hiss soared above the cacophony of families making goodbyes. Ron gave up on bribing his pygmy puff and bumped shoulders with Harry. “C’mon, mate! We’ve got to catch ourselves a compartment before they’re all taken. I’ll bet you there’s a few left in the back. Bye, mum! Bye Ginny!” Ron hugged his mother and sister, then tugged Harry’s arm. “Hurry! We’ll be too late!” 

Harry collected his luggage, awkwardly thanked Mrs. Weasley, and sped up behind Ron. They loaded their luggage into a luckily empty apartment and settled in. It was all so new and different, he wanted to take every sound, every sight, every smell, and put them away forever, so he could experience the mix of excitement and humming nervousness over and over again. He also had no idea that he actually could.

Another whistle sounded shrilly, and parents kissed their children one last time as the train huffed and puffed to life, chugging slowly out of the station. Harry squirmed in his seat to get a good look as the platform slid out of sight. Once he couldn’t see it anymore, he plopped back down and ruffled his hair, hoping to tame it even a little, and failing spectacularly. What he did accomplish, however, was making Ron’s blue eyes go round as moons and big as saucers.

“What?” Harry asked, shifting uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to much scrutiny from anyone other than the Dursleys, or the occasional bully. Ron continued to stare, as if in awe.

“You’re…. Harry, Harry Potter.” He rasped. Harry was confused beyond confusion.

“Um, yeah. I am. That is my name.” He shrugged, and his robes shifted on his extremely scrawny shoulders. Ron blinked as if in headlights. Harry folded in on himself a little. Had he done something wrong?

Luckily, the compartment door slid open just as Ron opened his mouth again, and there stood in the doorway a tall, lithe figure enrobed in forest green. The boy looked no older than the two sitting across from each other, but had a more mature air than most preteens. His ebony, wavy hair touched just below his chin, and his black eyes sparkled with something akin to curiosity, a need to understand the world and how it worked. He glanced at both of them, and when his eyes met Harry’s, he felt as if the sudden intruder might like to take him apart to see how he worked. But there was no maliciousness in the gaze, just intrigue.

“The name’s Prince, Severus Prince. They’re not going to call me that when they sort me, though. All of the other carriages are taken. Would you mind if I joined you? Everyone else said they’d rather not.” The boy, Severus, pouted. He looked down at them expectantly. Harry was very welcome of the distraction, himself, and he found that he liked the mysterious sort of air around Severus. Perhaps another friend to be made, he thought to himself, and smiled widely up at his new carriage mate. 

Patting the seat next to him, Harry nodded. “I don’t see why not, it doesn’t bother me.” Ron snapped out of his reverie at that point and shook himself. He looked up at Severus and shrugged.

“Have at it, I guess. Always good to meet more people. And I don’t mind either.” Ron smiled warmly up at Severus, who looked surprised and happy at his eager welcoming into the compartment.

“Thank you,” he said, a bit shy now. “No one wanted to sit with me because I’m a half-blood. And my pet. Do either of you dislike snakes?” He asked sheepishly. Both of them shook their heads.

“So long as it doesn’t try to eat my pygmy puff, I’m alright with snakes. Charlie’s always kept them, despite being a Gryffindor. It does explain why he works with dragons now, they’re kind of like really big snakes. He’s sent me tons of pictures, it’s really cool. And I’ve fed his snakes before. They’re pretty laid back, for all the hate they get. Never bitten me once,” Ron looked almost smug.

“Yeah,” Harry chimed in. “And they’re nice to talk to. I accidentally let a really big one out at the zoo, but it didn’t hurt me or anything. Thanked me, actually. Said it’d never seen Burma before.” He cleared his throat. “What kind is yours?”

There was immediate silence. Intense, uncomfortable silence. Now it was Ron and Severus looking at him like he’d grown ears of corn out of his face. It was a few painful minutes before anyone spoke, much less moved. Severus leaped forward and croaked,

“You can talk to snakes?! Like, talk to them? Conversations? In Parseltongue? What do they sound like?” Harry remained frozen. Ron did not. Instead, he turned white as a sheet and coughed as if choking. Before Harry could get so much as a word out of his constricting throat, the doors slid open again to reveal a short, bushy-haired girl in a pastel pink sweater vest and white jumper underneath. She raked her big, chocolatey brown eyes over them one by one. Her gaze finally settled with a critical intake on Harry’s forehead.

“Harry Potter,” the young witch surmised. “I wasn’t expecting to make your acquaintance so soon. I’m Hermione Granger.” She held out a small, firm hand. Despite the warm glow of her skin, she looked delicate as porcelain, and Harry stuttered before gingerly taking her hand in a gentle shake. “And who are you?” She asked of Severus, kneeling on the floor in front of Harry as if proposing, and Ron, slumped in his seat looking incredibly confused and overwhelmed.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, what you’re saying is that Harry Potter, The Chosen One, The Golden Boy, The Boy Who Lived, is a Parseltongue and you can’t wrap your head around it?” Hermione questioned Ron, and gave him a quizzical stare from where she sat primly on his left. “I’ve no trouble with it. The prophecy never said he couldn’t be in Slytherin,” her voice was calm and she nodded at Harry. “Slytherins aren’t inherently evil, you know. It’s a foolish misconception.” This time she shot Ron a judging glare.

Ron shrank into his coat a little. “I’ve nothing against it, really,” he pleaded. “It’s just that I never expected any of this. It was dreamlike, the idea of Harry Potter, the wizarding world’s savior. Now that I know he’s real…. It’s strange. But good luck in Slytherin, mate, I hope we can continue to be friends,” he said hopefully in Harry’s direction. “You too, Severus, I hope there’s no hard feelings,” Ron added.

“It’s alright, I suppose.” Severus had taken a seat next to Harry after realizing how embarrassing it was to Harry with him kneeling almost between his legs. Severus crossed his own long legs at the knees and gave Ron a small smile. He really seems older than a first year, Harry couldn’t help but think. At the moment, he really couldn’t bother to wonder why Severus seemed so mature for his age, with the exception of the snake-lovers earlier outburst. He was entirely caught up in whatever the hell was going on.

“Stop, everyone. How do you know my name? Who is ‘The Chosen One’? Or any of those other names? And do you not hear snakes? Is that weird? Am I weird?” He was so confused, and everything they had said was fuzzy. His carriage mates had the good grace to look surprised.

“Harry, how could you not know?” Hermione sounded genuinely shocked. And disturbed. “It’s only what everyone’s talking about, everywhere, all the time. Where have you been, under a rock?” Harry stiffened.

“A cupboard under my aunt and uncle’s stairs, actually. It’s where I sleep, and where they lock me away if they don’t feel like dealing with me. My cousin Dudley and his gang rough me up for hanging out at the local park. I haven’t exactly been able to stroll around downtown if you know what I mean.” Harry shrugged. 

“And they were so against me being accepted into Hogwarts they rented a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere. Took all my letters. Hagrid had to break down the door and take me away from them. They’re not very accepting of magic. Hated my parents, and hated me, because when my mum and dad died in a car crash, they got saddled with me. So I stayed out of their way when I wasn’t doing their chores. That’s about it, really. Not an exciting life.” He sniffed dryly. 

The news was old to him now, the mental scars numbed. It still hurt, and the abuse was still scary, but he’d understood from a young age that this was his deal in life, so he had to make the best of it. When he finally looked up from staring at his twiddling thumbs, he knew he’d said far too much.

“Harry…. do they even feed you?” Severus spoke in a whisper. His hand reached out and grasped Harry’s wrist firmly. His hand, despite having long, slim fingers, should not so easily close around the wrist of a fellow eleven-year-old, or so far. He was horrified. “They don’t,” he shakily concluded. 

Not letting go of Harry’s wrist, Severus turned and slid open the compartment door, sticking his head out. He waved to someone Harry couldn’t see, but when an older woman pushing a trolley filled with colorful packaging trundled her way over, he realized his new friend had called for food. He looked down at the hand on his wrist and something tumbled around inside him, and he felt flushed.

“You don’t have to, you know, get me food. I’m fine. Me and Hagrid ate at the Leaky Cauldron before we went shopping for my supplies, so I’ve already eaten.” He squeaked out. Severus turned and looked at him with something dark in his eyes.

“And how long ago was that, Harry?” Hermione’s voice was strained as if she was forcing herself not to yell. But she remained calmer than Ron, who looked livid, with round red cheeks like cherries and furrowed brows. He opened his mouth to say something and Hermione stepped on his foot. He shut up.

“Two hours ago, maybe? Three?” He shrugged, embarrassed at the attention.

“Then you have room for some snacks, no?” The trolley woman looked impatient at being called over and not given an order. Harry met her eyes shyly.

“Yes, ma’am.” He jiggled his hand in his pocket and took out some of the coins Hagrid had given him from his parent’s account. Some were smaller, and bronze, or silver, and some bigger and golden. Ron’s eyes popped out of his head. The trolley woman simply looked approvingly at Harry, for being called ma’am and being shown respect. She wished all the rowdy students she dealt with each year were as polite as this one.

“I’d suggest a chocolate frog,” Ron spoke up, and this time Hermione let him. “And Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. There are cauldron cakes, too. Really filling. Not the Fizzing Whizzbees though. They never sit for long.” Severus caught on to what Ron was saying and helped Harry make his purchases. Because of the big order, and how polite and sorry Harry seemed, the trolley lady gave him an extra frog, free of charge.

“Tell me who you get in that one before you get off the train, honey.” She winked and went on her way. Harry’s expression was quizzical. 

“Who I get? What’d she mean by that?” He asked. Severus chuckled and reached to unwrap the frog for him. He let Harry watch closely as he opened it.

“I’ve only had a few, as I’m not one for sweets, and they’ve always been seen as a special treat by my mother, but it’s fun to see what’s in them. The frogs are enchanted, so they move for a bit. I’ve had to chase my fair share of them around the room. And at the bottom, there’s a card, like a baseball card. It has a famous witch or wizard on it.

“See, you got Dumbledore. They’re the usual. I’ve seen some impressive collections, though. And I’ve got myself a Shacklebolt. Traded three McGonagalls for him. Oh look, he’s gone. He’ll be back, people in magic portraits do that all the time. You’ll get used to it.” Severus leaned closer to Harry as he talked. Although he’d let go of Harry when he’d helped him purchase his snacks with the correct amount of money, he could still feel how cold Harry’s skin had been. He wished he had a blanket to throw over the other boy's shoulders.

They’d just met not half an hour ago, but he already could see that The Boy Who Lived wasn’t anything like he’d thought. He wasn’t stuck up, rude, selfish, or narcissistic. In fact, it seemed to him those relatives of Harry had made it their lives work to make him think he was nothing, or even less than nothing. He wondered where the overwhelming need to protect this boy, not even younger than him, had come from. But he was so small, and frail, and frightfully skinny; he probably couldn’t walk around too much without tiring himself out. It wasn’t dinner time yet, and he already looked exhausted. 

Severus wished suddenly, a hope not unfruitful, that this boy before him would too be placed into Slytherin, as he was sure of himself being placed there. Perhaps they’d even share a room, albeit with two other boys as well. Then he could look after him, and see change take place in that fragile body. He was surprised at this amount of care for someone still a stranger, although hopefully a new friend, but still unknown to him in terms of human connection. 

But he was alright with this, he decided, watching Harry’s shimmering green eyes behind their fluttering lashes. He really was small. Severus could probably pick him up and lug him around with ease. He felt a shot of anger ring through him at the Muggles Harry lived with, hot and sharp. No matter if they were family, one simply didn’t treat someone that way-- let alone a child! He knew he was a child, the same age as Harry, but although he’d had his fair share of abuse and an unhappy home, he’d never been locked away and starved.

He vowed to do something, anything, even if all he could do was befriend this small, messy-haired boy beside him, and shove pumpkin stew down his throat at dinner. When Harry looked up at him gleefully, eyes shining and awkwardness forgotten, he knew he’d made the right choice.


	2. Who Did This to You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus has a fright when he witnesses Harry changing into pajamas for bed, then the two boys find something odd in the hallways of Hogwarts.

“SLYTHERIN!” The Sorting Hat boomed. After a bit of mulling, the ratty brown headpiece had made its decision. Harry grinned from ear to ear as his new house exploded into applause, whistles, and praise. He hurried over to Severus, who had already been sorted and was waiting hopefully for Harry to join him. When Harry sat down next to him, he gave him a pat on the back, not all that hard. He was surprised when Harry flinched, as if in pain.

“I’m sorry, was that a bit too hard? My apologies, really.” Severus truly felt a little guilty. He should have been more careful with the slim boy. Harry shook his messy black locks and gave him a wane smile.

“‘S alright. I’m tougher than I look. You just startled me, is all.” Severus let go of the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and gave a sigh of relief. It still didn’t sit right with him, but at least he knew Harry wasn’t angry with him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

After dinner and a house tour, Harry looked particularly tired. Severus noted this and told him he ought to go to sleep early if he wanted to be awake in the morning. Harry sleepily nodded and trunched down to their room, where both boys had been placed, to Severus’ glee. After a half-hour, Severus felt the tugging hands of rest and went to wash up before bed. “Harry? Are you in there? I’m coming in,” Severus hesitantly turned the knob to their room and opened the door. 

“Wait! I’m not ready,” Harry whipped around and froze, his arms stuck in the top of a pair of ratty pajamas, hair wild and glasses askew. He looked so lost in the big room, with its large wardrobes and uniform four poster beds. It was amazing to Severus just how tiny Harry was. And his skin, so pale, as if it had never seen the light of day. 

But it was the scars and cuts, bruising or fresh, that really caught his attention. He was peppered with them. They slinked down his legs from somewhere under his pajama bottoms, across his arms and in broken trails on his scrawny chest. There were what appeared to be bite marks from a dog, or dogs, circling those frail forearms, and purpling in the shape of fingers around his thin neck, hidden before by the collar of his shirt. 

Dark circles beneath his eyes and the gauntness of his face were prominent in the sallow green light emanating from magic lamps. Severus was horrified. Who did this to him? Not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Severus was sure, for if that evil wizard and his followers could do this much harm to Harry, he’d be dead already. 

Severus may have been eleven, but he was not a dimwit. He steadied himself and shut the door behind him as he stepped into the room. Placing a Colloportus on the lock with a whispered word, he straightened up and faced Harry, but to the Golden Boy’s relief, made no move further into the room.

“Now no one else can come in now, so it's okay. Get your shirt on, I think, and we’ll go to Madam Pomfrey. She’ll take care of those.” He gestured a hand at Harry’s wounds. “Get you cleaned up.” Harry tugged on his shirt, glad to no longer be topless and freezing. He nearly drowned in the Dudley-size top and bottoms, which he had to pull the drawstring of very tightly to get them to cling to his thin frame. The fire wasn’t on yet and with the thinness of the shirt, now he was merely very cold. 

“What do you mean? Who’s Madam Pomfrey?” Harry was rather sure he’d like some bandages for the fresher signs of his relatives' displeasure at his continued existence, but couldn’t see how anyone could help much.

Severus furrowed his brow. “The school nurse. She’ll probably give you a few potions, and pain relief spells. Did you think magic couldn’t heal you?” To his surprise, Harry nodded sheepishly.

“I’ve only seen a little magic since Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley. Floating objects and stuff. Not much else, except for the Sorting Hat and dinner, though. Or the moving staircases.” Harry felt like a dolt for not knowing anything about magic. Of course, it could heal you! 

He shook himself, and reminded his conscious that he’d only known that magic existed for a very short time and it wasn’t fair to expect too much of him. “Well, that and talking to snakes, I suppose,” Severus mused, looking as awkward as he felt. He shouldn’t have asked so critically about magic of a wizard his age that didn’t even know what a Parseltongue was while being one themselves. “Come on then. I’ll show you how to get there.” Harry readily followed him out of the Slytherin dungeons, eager to be rid of his multitudes of scars. 

What he really didn’t understand was why Severus treated him with such kindness, like he was a porcelain doll. It made him feel special, something he hadn’t felt to such magnitude since the boa constrictor thanked him in the zoo. Heat crept up his cheeks and he bowed his head to look at his feet as they walked along towards the nursing wing. At some point, while being utterly intrigued by the dilapidated state of his hand-me-down shoes and their flapping soles, Harry accidentally kept straight instead of turning with Severus, and found himself in front of an ornate set of wooden doors, large and formidable, that sloped and peaked where they met at the top. 

Huge, imposing iron knockers hung at the height of his head, and he felt much younger, smaller, lesser, in front of these doors that lead somewhere he couldn’t imagine; they seemed so ancient as to have their own ambiance radiating off their frames. “Harry! I lost you! Are you alright?” Severus stopped short behind the tiny boy, panting for breath. When he looked up past that untamed mane and at the doors, he whistled softly. 

Harry turned and looked up at him with wide eyes, sparkling with emerald curiosity, and due to his stunted growth along with Severus’ unlikely height for an eleven-year-old, his neck craned up, and his thick unruly curls brushed along his pale neck. ‘He looks like a baby stork,’ Severus decided, ‘Or a faery. A pale, pointy faery.’ He didn’t say these things aloud. Harry seemed rather defensive about his size, or lack thereof, and if what Severus suspected was correct, then Harry’s abuse was much worse than his own. Ever since his father had left two years prior, his mother’s and his lives had improved exponentially. 

No longer beaten or abused, whether it be through cruel words spoken by a filthy mouth that stunk of whiskey or backhanded slaps that sent him tumbling to the floor, Severus was quickly becoming a much healthier, energetic child. At Harry’s quizzical, and completely adorable look, Severus cleared his throat. He felt parched from running. “I think this is the Room of Requirement. My mother told me about it. You can’t take a picture of it, so she showed me a memory. It was strangely fuzzy and soft around the edges, so I couldn’t really make out any details, but this… feels the same. Really old, and powerful. Kind of like meeting Dumbledore, I suppose. You can read about it in Hogwarts: A History. It was, and still is, my mother’s favorite book.”

Harry stared up at Severus with awe. ‘He saw his mother’s memories? How? Some sort of crystal ball, like a sorceress?’ “There’s a book about Hogwarts?” He asked, then quickly added, “What’s in the Room of Requirement?” His huge viridescent eyes bore holes in Severus’ charcoal ones. Everything was so fresh and interesting, a great shock to the senses after memorizing every grain of wood and rusty nail sticking out haphazardly from the walls of the understairs cupboard he was so familiar with. A special room was just the thing to spark attentiveness within him. To his surprise, Severus took his hand and led him slowly but determinedly towards the massive doors.

“It only appears when you need something important, and whatever is inside is supposed to suit your needs. There must be a reason we’ve stumbled across it. It would have left if I wasn’t supposed to go inside. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look, at the very least.” Severus’ mother had always advised him to accept the administrations of help or affection by powerful creatures, talismans, and even ancient, self-aware rooms with a knack for knowing just what you needed. Harry shivered in anticipation and a little nervousness. What could be behind those stoic doors, with their rune-like inscriptions and foreboding presence dwarfing both boys as they walked to that terribly intriguing entranceway, hand in hand?

Despite Severus’ curiosity being parallel to Harry’s, he noted that this was the second time today that he’d held the smaller boy’s hand, and though it was tiny and almost frail with how thin and malnourished he was, it fit nicely in his palm and provided a comforting warmth; normally he would be loathe to make physical contact with anyone, but with Harry it seemed so natural, so right. The feeling was so strong that he didn’t even try to deny that he’d like to hold Harry’s hand a bit more, and in the future, after tonight. Perhaps to not ever let go. Such emotions, swelling and complex, were too much for an eleven-year-old, no matter how mature, and Severus fought to keep calm as he tugged one of the heavy doors open.

“Construction? We need construction cones?” Harry peeked around Severus’ lanky frame and into the large, chaotic space. Littering the floor were fluorescent orange cones, warning tape, and electric tools, but no sign of workers, nor any movement. Severus looked confused as he was.

“I suppose… it isn’t ready yet? Maybe it wanted us to know to look for it later, but I’m not sure how much later. I didn’t know it could do this; it’s rather strange.” Harry nodded understandingly at his words, which bewildered Severus further. 

Harry saw his friend’s face and shrugged nonchalantly. “Strange things happen to me wherever I go. I never thought I’d be in a school for magic, have eaten a moving chocolate frog, or seen staircases just up and move off when they please.” His mouth watered at the thought of cocoa amphibians. “I haven’t had chocolate before, so that frog was really good.”

‘He just keeps on surprising me, doesn’t he,’ Severus wondered at how calm Harry was when he’d just been tossed into the Wizarding World after spending his entire life at the hands of less than loving muggles. He shut the door and turned to go, still grasping Harry’s hand. The two boys looked at each other and smiled, a little shyly, but didn’t let go. “I’m glad you liked the chocolate,” Severus said, then proceeded to walk Harry to Madam Pomfrey in comfortable silence. When they arrived at the medical wing and Pomfrey got a good look at Harry’s state, and why he was in it, she shrieked, practically threw him into bed, and began immediately applying all the potions, spells, and draughts she knew; all this was done while she fumed furiously at anything she saw, muttering darkly about “Dumbledore” and “blind old bats” and “idiotic headmasters”. 

She shot Severus a withering stare that said ‘I can’t believe this,’ and although she looked at him, he could tell the angry glare was for someone else. He reminded himself at that moment to never find himself on Madam Pomfrey’s bad side, as she conjured a storm of hurtful insults directed at various wizards, witches, and horrid muggles, all under her breath and without swearing. He couldn’t help but be impressed.

"Back to bed with you, Prince, I think. Come back in the morning after breakfast and I'll let you see him. He'll be right as rain in a few days, and from then on he'll simply need to eat more and watch his weight. Run along now, I've got matters to attend to." Severus nodded gratefully at Pomfrey, for understanding his want to see Harry better and for using his mother's name. He thanked her silently for helping Harry and after wishing them both goodnight, made his way back to their room and fell into bed. He tried not to think too hard about how the infirmary bed seemed to swallow Harry's thin frame whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Harry will get better! I want this to be a nice, long series, and everyone will progress along the way! <3


	3. I'm so amazingly sorry I can't even begin to tell you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i am a garbage human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters, places, or things in this fic belong to me :( they all belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros :(

Look, I can't even begin to apologize. I just up and disappeared from this story and I never said why. I am now, forced back to the computer by quarantine and my own inability to abandon this story. I love this story so, SO much and it WILL continue. I will not leave this an unfinished fic. I will now rattle off some of the things that have kept me from this: writer's block, depression, overwhelming anxiety, family issues, world-wide pandemic, writer's block, exhaustion, and writer's block. I finally realized what was keeping me from writing. I'm only invested in Severus and Harry's story, so trying to write from Draco's or Ginny's or Luna's perspective was frustrating and boring. From here on out I will be focusing entirely on Severus Snape/Harry Potter. It is the best course of action if I want to see this fic through, and I really, really do. There will be background relationships, of course. I want these characters to be well rounded and complex like they were originally written. Thank you for sticking with me. This fic WILL BE FINISHED. time to write byeeeee


	4. Chapter 3: Are You Feeling Better?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is treated to not one, not two, but three visitors during his hospital wing stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! I've been gone for so long that I feel a bit rusty. I hope you like it!  
Disclaimer: None of the characters, places, or things in this fic belong to me :( they all belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros :(

Harry awoke slowly and silently, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings before opening his eyes completely. The throbbing throughout his body was so faint that he almost wondered if the wounds had ever been there. All around him was empty air, with the exception of the warm, soft bed beneath him. Although there was no whirring of ventilation, the room was cool and airy. He dared to crack open an eye, just a sliver, and everything hit him at once.

Being jostled along a hidden platform, meeting students on the train, floating candles in the Great Hall, the Room of Requirement, the way Severus had looked at him as Pomfrey urged him into bed-- Severus! He bolted upright and immediately regretted moving at all.

“Oh, my head,” Harry groaned, and clutched at his scar out of habit. It felt as if his skull had been used as a basketball by unruly children. Madame Pomfrey, having felt the triggering of the monitoring spell she’d placed on the damaged boy the night before, bustled in with a tray of potions. Finding her newest patient sitting up, certainly not as she had left him, she tsked and gently pushed the thin body into the fluffy down of the bed.

Finding little resistance, she busied herself with administering the correct potions to the correct areas, and handing Harry several unfamiliar concoctions to choke down. They tasted awful, and he felt as though his mouth were full of bog sewage. When she handed him a glass of water the relief that painted his face was enough to convince her that despite how fragile Harry seemed, he’d be right as rain in the end.

\----------------------------------------------------

It was past noon when he woke again. Rain pattered at the window in a drowsy fashion, keeping his eyelids heavy and his body relaxed. Trees waved lazily outside, and Harry thought he could just barely make out the sound of people chatting, muffled and warped by the thick castle walls. He drifted back off to sleep and dreamed of hot tea, comforting and filling unlike the cold dregs he sometimes snuck at home.

When consciousness finally returned in full force, Harry found three sets of eyes peering at him from the left side of the bed. Blinking groggily at Ron, Hermione, and Severus, it occurred to Hermione that he looked a bit like a disgruntled owl. Not that she’d ever tell him that.

“Arright, mate?” Ron, to her right, spoke up first. He proceeded to cough awkwardly and shift his legs so that his left calf bumped into hers. She found she didn’t mind. Concentrating on the pixie-like boy in front of her, Hermione smiled the best she could at Harry.

“We were worried, you know. When Severus told us he’d taken you to the hospital wing, I’d thought-- I’d thought you were dying. But, since you don’t appear to be dead, I’m going to make an educated guess and say it didn’t come to that.” Hermione tugged on a strand of frizzy hair while she talked, and Harry gave her a wane smile. It hurt to flex even the smallest of muscles, so he remained motionless.  
When he looked up at Severus, he found the boy’s night-dark eyes fixed on his throat, where his uncle liked to grab him, to hold him still. When Severus looked back up, his eyes were joyful. All the marks on Harry’s throat were gone.

“I’m afraid Mr. Potter won’t be joining you as soon as any of us would like,” Madam Pomfrey’s stern voice cut in, “but as long as you three stick to the Hospital Ward’s rules regarding long-term patients, I’ll allow frequent visits that don’t cut into class time. Now, Ms. Granger, off you pop. I’ve just received word from your Head of House that you’re wanted in Transfiguration at the end of next period. Best hurry along now, you wouldn’t want to keep Professor McGonagall waiting!”

Hermione beamed as Pomfrey shuffled her out the door. Harry could have sworn that before the large doors leading out into the corridors fell shut, he heard her mutter something about ‘Levi Osa’, whoever that was. The three first year boys were left utterly bewildered, and Madame Pomfrey simply amused. 

Ron fidgeted in his seat and drew a deep breath. “I’d best go too, mate. I’ve got Care of Magical Creatures first thing after lunch and the teacher looks so disappointed whenever anybody is late that it makes everybody feel uncomfortable.” He stood up and wiped his hands on the front of his robes. Nodding at Severus, Ron turned to go. “Get better soon, Harry, I’ve decided to teach you Quidditch the moment Pomfrey says you can.”

“Bye, Ron,” Harry croaked. It sounded like a chorus of frogs had stuck themselves in his throat while he’d slept. Ron smiled crooked, but it fit on his face. Soon enough, the freckly redhead was gone, leaving Severus alone by Harry’s bedside. “Hi,” he rasped up at the boy who’d brought him here. "How long have I been asleep?"

“Hello, Harry,” Severus said quietly, and leaned forward in his chair. “Three days. It sucks, being in the Hospital Wing. Eventually, you’ll get used to how the potions taste and the soreness will wear away.”

Harry looked thoughtful. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Seemingly unprompted, a suspicious look flitted across Harry’s face, and blush arose on his thin cheeks. When he spoke next his tone was wary. “Pinky promise?” He whispered, viridescent eyes refusing to leave the floor.

“Yes, pinky promise. I swear.” Severus kept his face neutral as best he could, and slid his pinky next to Harry’s smaller one, which trembled. He linked their fingers together, and after they’d shaken hands, he didn’t let go.

“They never let me play with Dudley, at all. I’d watch him do things with other kids, like football and cartwheels and climbing the monkey-bars. Aunt Petunia always kept me close, on a leash, and didn’t let me talk to other kids. If anyone asked, which they did, she told them I was autistic and needed to be kept in check. Then, when we’d get home, she’d yell at me for making a scene and looking too forlorn, then throw me in the cupboard and not let me eat any supper.”

As Harry spoke, the frogs hopped away, but his throat closed up and kept his voice weak. “Those days… those days were good days. She couldn’t leave me at home because the AC was broken and the house was too hot, so I got to go outside and see other people. Sometimes, if I was lucky, Dudley would give me a snack while she wasn’t looking. He was nicer, back then, I think because he didn’t understand why his parents hated me so much.”

As tears welled up in those gorgeous green eyes, Severus held his breath, moved closer and careful not to hurt his friend, hugged Harry close. His breath came rushing out of him when Harry leaned forward and snuggled in, soaking the taller boy’s shoulder with salt.

“Oh dear, you’ve worked him up. Come now, Mr. Snape, visiting hours are over anyhow.” Madame Pomfrey waited for the two boys to break apart and tucked Harry back into bed. After giving him another dose of Dreamless Sleep, the last one for at least a week so as not to accidentally make the boy an addict, she sent Severus from the room. Before he left, he turned back to her.

“Prince, please, Madame Pomfrey. I’d like to be called Severus Prince. It’s my mother’s name.” Pomfrey raised her eyebrows, looked him over, and nodded. Severus visibly relaxed.

“Off to class, Mr. Prince. I’ll not tell you twice.” He went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't write Pomfrey's name without thinking "pompom. pompom." over and over again (please send help)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be a long ride, and I'll try to post as much as possible.


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